Don't Speak

Eight days, seven hours and thirty-six minutes since I left home. I hear talking, laughing and even some glass breaking. But of course I can't see anything.
But I can tell there are three of us. A girl to the left, a boy to the right. I can tell by the way they act. For instance, the girl, about six or seven years old, she whimpers softly, but you can tell she has been here before.
The boy is “the strong” type. He’s all silent and seems to have a lot on his mind. But as far as I can tell it is empty.
The vehicle, a van of some sort, stops. Doors fly open and we are thrown over shoulders, carried approximately fifteen feet, and slammed down, hard. They rip the sack-looking things off of our heads. That’s when I realize my hands are tied together.
A big, scary guy who looks about six-foot walks right in front of us, saying, “Hello kids, welcome to Hell.”
Oh, but of course he wasn't kidding.
Fifteen year old Maya was kidnapped and turns out her whole world was a lie, with her new friends, she will find out what is going on and why everything is a lie.